


Corrompere.

by impracticallyperfect (whynotfour)



Series: Impractical Imagines [1]
Category: Impractical Jokers
Genre: A prequel of kinds, F/M, basically I'm a slut for Brian Quinn, born from lust
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-24
Updated: 2018-06-24
Packaged: 2019-05-28 00:03:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,162
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15036236
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whynotfour/pseuds/impracticallyperfect
Summary: Corrompere -verb- /cor·róm·pe·re/ - to corrupt.Work, friendship and sex test some boundaries in the prequel toCondivere.Can be read alone or as part of the series.





	Corrompere.

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Condividere.](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14791332) by [impracticallyperfect (whynotfour)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/whynotfour/pseuds/impracticallyperfect). 



> This can be read as a stand-alone piece of work or as a prequel the choice is yours!

Feeling too much, thoughts and emotions are too hard to process at three in the morning and the liquor in her system only makes things more complicated. Her lips taste like him, that delightful mix of whiskey and smoke clinging to her skin as she tries and fails to handle herself like a grown up. The walls of the hotel room choke the life out of her and she wishes it was his hand at her throat as she crosses the corridor in pursuit of him. It’s been a roundabout of one-night stands and a constant hook-up, battling between admitting to friends with benefits or something less. She leans towards the first. 

They’ve known each other for longer than past partners combined and he touches her body in ways the others never can but that doesn’t make this any easier on their mental health. What started as a game has real life consequences but even so it’s his face that fills her mind when her fingers dance between her legs and him she cries for when she falls apart. Her fist may as well be made of vibranium as it drums against the door of room 104 and her legs tremble in the cold, clinging to the thin lace body that adorns her the way his mouth should be. Others pass by but she doesn’t care for lingering eyes or catcalls all she wants is him as she knocks a little louder and rests her head against the cool frame. Just needs to be wrapped up in him again.

Sheets tangle around the thickness of his thighs and he’s not sure if the pounding in his head is fictional when alcohol is the only thing that gives him relief from the tidal wave of life. Sleep still blurs his vision and the missed calls of friends fall to the back of his mind when he sees the time and realises who could be on the other side. The lock sticks in his hand and he struggles not to give in to the temptation of leaving her in the cold when her date has clearly fallen flat. Pulls her in without second thought as the door gives way and his hands find the silk ribbon tying her together as her mouth finds his hungrily. His mind goes blank when she kisses him and for a minute he doesn’t need the glass on the cabinet or the porn on pay-per-view, all he wants is her.

It doesn’t matter that she’s spent the night with another or that she’s still dressed for someone else because it’s his hands that roam over her body and his fingers that tussle with the knot. She pushes him back to the bed and he trips over the hotel robe thrown to the floor as he falls blindly backwards but that doesn’t stop her. The moans of another woman echo artificially from the stereo system and she doesn’t even look as she unclasps the garments only button and lets it shimmy down her legs to the floor. Only then does he realise he’s fucked her with it pulled to one side before and finds the pervert within him wishing his cum was still staining the crotch. 

Stuck between adoration and disgust when he notices a hickey marking her neck and his hands only fall heavier against her hips as he pulls her to his mouth, saying one sentence to put the wheels in motion, “Make it worth my while, won’t you?”

Her fingers skim his superman tattoo as she drops to her knees and the underskirt of the bed makes her skin glow darker in the blue light of the television when her palms guide his knees apart. She knows that her mouth is only good for one thing when it comes to him. He’s half hard already and she knows his fist has already done its share of the work based on the damp fabric she peels away. Her head tilts to one side, wide eyes framed by lashes and smudged mascara, daring him to stop her only the apology she wants to say falls flat on her tongue as it does the same against the inside of his thigh. He lets her torment and tease as build-up, knows she gets as she gives. She pushes back on her heels to show him the fingers that dip between her legs and the way she rubs them against her palm. The lubricant glistens in the dim light and he swallows heavy as she mixes it with the trail already leaking from his tip. Her eyes don’t stray when her palm guides down his shaft as tight as latex and her fingers only press tighter once she reaches his base. Her thumb pushes against his vein the way that her tonsils usually would but she doesn’t give him a chance to acclimatise before her mouth is pushing back his foreskin and tongue is meeting his nerve endings. 

She’s intentionally sloppy as saliva slips between her barely parted lips and he has to work hard to remember that she’s in his bad books when she swirls her tongue just the way he likes it. Her chest pushes up into him and his balls rest against them so that they slap lightly with each breath. He wants to fuck her throat in this position, too easy to lift his hips and force himself further down her throat but she has to work for his load this time. If she wants it she’s got to earn it. 

The man on the television calls the bimbo a slut and she moans in appreciation, mouth tightening against him and that’s when Q snaps – thrusting his hips as she gags before saying, “Only good girls get praise.”

It’s almost painful for him to pull himself away but her hair makes the perfect leash as he forces her to stand, slapping the back of her thigh to part them. His fingers spread the wetness between her legs, pushing between her lips and pumping once, twice, three times before pulling back when she grinds her hips down to try and chase the pleasure. He tugs harder to make her whine, reminding her who is control and then he’s back there again only this time it’s his palm slapping against her ass and then her pussy if not a little more gently. The pain burns just as bright as the dart of pleasure that comes when his fingers match the timing of his mouth against her nipple and she knows better than to let herself cry out when she bites onto her lip so hard she’s sure she’s drawing blood. 

“Is this what it takes for you to learn your lesson?” he asks as his palm pulls away only to drop back down. “Do I need to ruin you every single night for you to realise that no man will ever be able to fuck you the way I do?”

**Author's Note:**

> Any comments, theories or questions can be posted to  ImpracticallyPerfect on Tumblr. x


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